Anyone who lives in a River Valley knows you have to take storms seriously. You have to be prepared. Although not all storms have flood potential, you want to be watching. I have a sister- and brother-in-law who have the furniture movers on speed-dial, in case they need them to come and load their downstairs into a truck. They’ve done what they could to make their house fare better in the storms and be easier to clean up. (it’s totally ingenious and lovely.)
When storms happen, people start calling around letting others who have traditionally had water problems (why say flood when a euphemism will do?) and remind them that their second (third, fourth) bedroom is open. Others dash to the store in case they’re going to be cut off for a while.
But we live in open space. There are wide swaths of fields in these valleys and the storms often roll down alleys of least resistance. So we get to watch the beauty and power build before they let loose. And let loose they do. This is a part of the country where thunderclouds build and then explode into light and sound. Nature throws a beautiful tantrum.
And then the storm passes and all is still and clean and Beauty. The creeks are full and then the river. The land is plump and satisfied. The trees drip on unwary passersby as the birds start to sing once again. Peace visits the Valley. If it’s been a really big storm, the neighbors come out and start helping others dig out. But mostly, there’s Peace and Quiet, and it’s a lovely, lovely thing. (in Deb’s lovely photo, the storm is building.)